


The World's Changing Around Us (We Stay Like Us)

by NotALemon



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Banter, Canon-Typical Flippant Political Discussion, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Established Relationship, For Something With So Many Political References This is Awfully Short, Good Old American Optimism, I Did a Lot of Cigarette Research for This, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Maybe They're Friends With Benefits? Maybe They're Dating? Dunno, Nostalgia, Post-Coital Cuddling, References to the Cold War, Smoking, Surface-Level Discussion of Politics, This is RusAme I Mean--, Vague References to Modern Russian-American Diplomatic Relations, Vaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotALemon/pseuds/NotALemon
Summary: Alfred takes a pull of vodka straight from the bottle, shuddering at the burn. He’s never really gotten over the way heavy liquor burns on the way down, even after all his years. Arthur’d never really let him drink any alcohol, and heisphysically nineteen, so. There’s that.Ivan laughs at him.“Shut up, man,” Alfred grumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, still holding the bottle. “I’m not an alcoholic.”“I am not an alcoholic either. I can hold my vodka,” Ivan replies, snatching the bottle from Alfred. “It’s like stealing babies.”“Stealing candy from a baby,” Alfred corrects.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	The World's Changing Around Us (We Stay Like Us)

Alfred takes a pull of vodka straight from the bottle, shuddering at the burn. He’s never really gotten over the way heavy liquor burns on the way down, even after all his years. Arthur’d never really let him drink any alcohol, and he _is_ physically nineteen, so. There’s that. 

Ivan laughs at him. 

“Shut up, man,” Alfred grumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, still holding the bottle. “I’m not an alcoholic.”

“I am not an alcoholic either. I can hold my vodka,” Ivan replies, snatching the bottle from Alfred. “It’s like stealing babies.”

“Stealing candy from a baby,” Alfred corrects. He adjusts his glasses and casually snuggles up to Ivan’s side, not making a big deal of it. As if being wrapped up in bedsheets and covered in hickeys isn’t something to make a big deal of. It really isn’t, to people who have been around for so long, though it would be to Arthur. Good thing Arthur doesn’t know.

Not that Alfred cares if his older brother/father figure knows what he gets up to. He’s his own nation, independent for _years_ , and he doesn’t particularly give a shit what Arthur thinks.

“There’s no candy around here, _Fredka_.” Ivan ruffles Alfred’s hair playfully. “Unless you’re hiding something.”

“This ass,” Alfred says. 

“I thought your ass was heroic.” 

Alfred laughs. “You better fucking believe it.” He feels he should smoke. They always used to smoke, back in the Cold War days. They would go at it on any surface they could do it, and then they'd smoke, because everyone smoked during those days. Vaping after sex just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Ivan shakes his head and drinks from the bottle. "It is nice."

"Thanks. I work out." Alfred reaches out to the nightstand and takes the thin thumbdrive of his vape between his fingers.

"Mm." Ivan drains the bottle and tosses it to the side, caught in the sea of sheets. He gazes at the ceiling. "I thought things were getting better,” he says, sadness brushing against his voice. 

"They aren't?" Alfred takes a hit of his vape. Say what you will about the times, but they really are a-changin'. Not that Alfred particularly minds vaping. It's apple pie flavored, and real tobacco just can't compare to that.

"You believe they are?"

Alfred shrugs. "Just 's long as I get to be the hero…,” he jokes.

Ivan nudges Alfred's side.

"Okay, things haven't been the best lately. But, like… they might get better! Who knows?" Alfred takes another hit of his vape, hopeful as always. Yes, his optimism often gets him teased by the other nations, but damn, it’s better than their crushing pessimism when it comes to, like, _everything_.

"You do not smoke anymore."

"Well, my _people_ don't really--"

"You always smoked before." Ivan's voice rings with nostalgia for a time long gone.

"What, did you like it better when we were at each other's throats all the time? That was some super unhealthy shit, man." Alfred leans his head on Ivan's shoulder. "Or that, like, you just miss me smoking cigarettes? 'Cuz I can do that, too."

"It is that-- your people still hate me."

"Don't yours hate me?"

Ivan picks at the end of the sheet. "Is it not annoying? Are you unbothered?"

Alfred doesn't really know how to tell Ivan about how he craves approval all the time and what his self-idolization actually means. It's a downer to talk about in any situation, especially this one. But it's a very _them_ thing to talk about, isn't it? Whenever they're not at each other's throats, making sarcastic comments and annoying each other, they can actually talk to each other like real nations instead of ones that just care about dick measuring contests and arms races. 

"Nah," Alfred says through a cloud of apple pie-scented smoke. "I care an awful lot."

"Then how can you act so--?"

"'Cuz I've had a lot of practice at it. Duh." Alfred pulls his head from Ivan's shoulder to look into his eyes. "This's really bothering you, huh?"

Ivan nods, avoiding Alfred's eyes. "How can you like me when your people do not?"

"Uh, 'cuz you're my friend, man. And just 'cuz my people believe in something doesn't mean I gotta. You don't believe everything your people do, do you?"

Ivan shakes his head and lights a cigarette. 

"Gimme those," Alfred demands, sticking out his hand for the pack. 

"I thought you didn't smoke anymore," Ivan teases before he hands it over. 

Alfred takes one between his teeth and fiddles with the lighter for a second before it lights. It's a cheap one. Ivan probably got it for a dollar. At the rate Ivan smokes, he'll probably keep it for a couple months before it either breaks or runs out of fluid. 

The smell isn't apple pie, but it's still good. Nostalgic. Smells like Ivan, which is always a plus. Back in the day, when he and Ivan couldn’t see each other and Alfred missed Ivan (not that he’d admit to missing Ivan, back then). 

"Your cigarettes suck," Alfred grumbles. They smell like you, he doesn't say. Winstons smell like Ivan. Alfred's always preferred Marlboros, but he’ll take Winstons, too. He’s not picky.

"Then next time, I will not shoot you one," Ivan says, simply. He snatches the pack back from Alfred. 

"Then I'll top next time."

Ivan scoffs. "As if you could."

Alfred flicks ash at him playfully. "Fuck you, Vanya."

"As if you could," Ivan repeats, smirking. 

They don't say I love you, but they do share cheap vodka and cigarettes and kisses and words and a bed, so. There's that.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone during a basketball game in January and hadn't touched it since then. I thought about it yesterday and decided _screw it, I'll polish it up and post it_. Here we are.
> 
> (Also I really wanna write something with more complex politics-- maybe Cold War-era, because I find Cold War-era politics fascinating.)


End file.
